


I Will Not Say Goodbye

by TrippinOverMyFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Grieving, Hurt No Comfort, Neither am i, Rated M For Death, quentin isn’t good at coping, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippinOverMyFandoms/pseuds/TrippinOverMyFandoms
Summary: “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You’re always telling me that it’s okay because I didn’t know but that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have been naive and I should have made an effort. I wish I could have actually been your dad. You’re such an amazing kid Peter,”Or Quentin does his best dealing with Peter’s death after Infinity War and being a survivor of the snap.(au where Quentin finds out he’s Peter’s dad somewhere between Civil War and Homecoming)





	I Will Not Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Title pulled from I Will Not Say Goodbye by Danny Gokey
> 
> This is very sad and not for the faint of heart

November 18th, 2018

It’s the date Quentin won’t forget as the day he found out his son was dead. Peter Parker was gone because of some adventure he had gone on with the avengers and now he was dead like half of the rest of the world. Though it had happened many months ago, November 18th was the day it all came together and it couldn’t be denied. 

It wasn’t fair. He had only just found out about his son a year prior and he was already ripped away. Quentin should have known better. It was like with everyone else he ever had in his life that mattered, they either die, leave, disappear, or let you down. Sometimes more than one of those. He should have known getting involved in Peter’s life would lead to heart break.

He didn’t really regret it though. Peter had begun to show him how to live. Ever since Quentin was a child he was so hyper focused on his studies and creations because he didn’t trust people and couldn’t rely on the little bit of family he had. Peter was persistent and cared enough about him to show him how to enjoy small things. 

But when Peter died all of that did too. He didn’t enjoy things, he had no hobbies, they all reminded him of the son he lost too soon. Quentin had no one but himself and the world was so much smaller now, he felt twice as alone. 

That was okay- he’d been alone before, all his life he had been alone. 

He stayed in his apartment, which seemed quieter now with the world wide grieving. That wasn’t new, though. The only life he ever had before Peter was when he was in college and later when he worked at Stark Industries. But he had long since graduated and had been fired two years ago. He didn’t have a life outside his creations. 

Quentin didn’t live, he dwelled. He did what he needed for survival and that was it. In between he was caught in thoughts and equations for old projects, forcing them to the forefront of his mind to avoid grieving. 

Because grieving hurt too much. If he allowed himself to grieve then he’d be so overwhelmed with emotions he already wasn’t used to feeling. 

July 7th, 2020

It had been a while since a manic episode hit. 

This one occurred during dinner as Quentin sat alone at the bar that separated the kitchen and open dining. He was running the programming of his last project at Stark Industries when the idea hit him. Why he hadn’t thought of it before he wasn’t sure but it was still genius. Immediately he abandoned his meal and got to work, spurred by energy brought on by bipolar mania.

He pulls out every scrap he has, pulling up old blue prints and codes on any spare device he has. Technically the technology he created and Stark stole isn’t his anymore but of course he still has the process. Anything he doesn’t have he orders or goes out and buys. He has to complete this. He has to. 

There’s a few nights he does sleep at all, going days on end reconfiguring and wiring and just inventing. He’s passed out a couple of times at his desk when the episode wears off but something in him still spurs him onward. He has to keep going. He has to. 

He’s probably missed a few meals, he’s reminded of this one night when his stomach feels empty and he’s almost too weak to stand up. Unfortunately there’s nothing in his fridge and barely anything of substance in the cabinets so he has to go out to buy things. At least it’s not so late that there aren’t stores open. Along with groceries he ends up buying more parts. He has to make this. He has to. 

August 12th, 2020

It’s two days after Peter’s birthday. He’d be nineteen. 

Already having the basics, it didn’t take Quentin very long to get a working model. 

It was now one in the morning and he could barely keep his eyes open but he was so close. Just putting the final touches on the programming. 

When he’s done a surge of energy races through him. Because this is what he’s been working toward and now he can finally have it. There’s no time for rest, no waiting until morning, he needs this now.

Quentin leaves his office, weaving through the mess of parts on the floor of the hall of parts, wires, and various containers the things came in. He holds a projector in his arms so carefully, as if the slightest movement could ruin everything.

He walks the few feet to Peter’s room. He hasn’t been in since the morning he woke his son up for school, the last time he had seen him. 

He’s starting to feel things and he hasn’t even opened the door yet. His chest tightens when he turns the knob, gently pushing the door forward. Momentum carries it and it makes a squeak that echoes throughout the empty apartment. Quentin takes a deep breath and enters.

It’s exactly as he remembers, the same clothes on the floor, the same models on shelves, and the same pictures on the walls. He sighs, flicking on the lights and realizing this was already harder than he thought it would be. 

Quentin crosses the room, every step feeling like he has weights around his ankles. He wastes no time in fixing the projector to the top of the wardrobe. He pushes a small button on the side of it before retreating to the center of the room and waits. 

Then all of a sudden Peter is standing about three feet away from him. 

The kid smiles and waves at Quentin and this causes him to grin, a foreign expression for him. 

His heart sinks again, a lump building in his throat, he wasn’t used to feeling this way and didn’t know how to handle it. “I miss you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Peter’s face drops and he looks sad too. “I know,” he says in response.

Quentin’s breath hitches, contemplating stopping the whole thing, then Peter says, “it’s okay to be sad you know,” and Quentin laughs because he programmed the damn thing, knew every word it would tell him, but he forgot about that part. He had taken into consideration what he might be feeling when he finally went through with turning it on and thought about what Peter might say to him. It he didn’t know any better he’d be convinced his son was in the room with him.

“It’s okay,” the illusion echoes, but Quentin shakes his head because it’s not. None of this was okay. He shouldn’t have to do this, his son should still be here.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out, he doesn’t want to but he has to if this is going to be any better, he needs to do this, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You’re always telling me that it’s okay because I didn’t know but that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have been naive and I should have made an effort. I wish I could have actually been your dad. You’re such an amazing kid Peter,” he can’t get himself to say ‘was’ because this is hard enough already, “and I’m sorry I never got to see that. I’m sorry I never got to see you grow up and become who you are. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you either. I should have been firmer. Maybe you would still be here and you’d get to have a life.” 

It’s too much, this was a bad idea. He’s so overwhelmed with emotions that he can’t even cry, he’s just trembling and can barely stand. Quentin sinks to his knees onto the floor, doubled over as dry sobs leave his body. He’s so tense it makes his head hurt. “It’s not fair!” He shouts. 

”You’re going to be okay-“ the program goes on with his coding, kneeling down to join him on the floor.

“It should have been me. I’ve screwed up so much, I deserve it. You don’t. You should have gotten to live, you were so much better at it than me anyways. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. I don’t...” it’s hard to finish. Quentin has felt sadness and negative emotions related to it but losing someone, losing a son, is so much different than the things he used to cry about. It’s not the same as tears being a result of overwhelming anger or from feeling alone or like no one wants you. It’s so, so much more different. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Comes out in a whisper and he looks up at the face staring back at him. Why did the universe hate him. Why couldn’t he have at least been part of whatever it was that took half the population. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel this way. 

Quentin read articles in the early stages of programming. Things on what to say to lost loved ones and those who have lost loved ones, thinking maybe he could program his creation to have some sort of comforting words. But none of them sounded like Peter. It was just easier to do the bare minimum and see what happened, or even just do all the talking himself.

Among those articles, however, were bits on stages of grief and how people didn’t always say goodbye at first or even at all. There were many ways of working out grief, all of them unique. 

So if saying goodbye was too hard then maybe Quentin wouldn’t have to, he’d deal with it in his own way.

“I will not say goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly made myself cry with this one. I lost two people close to me in my family seven months apart back in 2017 and though it wasn’t father/son, rather uncle/niece and grandfather/granddaughter, there’s still some stuff that’s kinda universal in loss I guess. It was interesting too because I’ve always perceived Quentin as someone who isn’t in touch with a lot of emotions so I briefly explored how overwhelming all of that would be. Writing that last bit got me I won’t lie.
> 
> I’m also super sorry if I made you cry.


End file.
